Deidara's Speech Therapy
by anqiaj
Summary: Where Pain forces Deidara to talk Speech Therapy. Everyone, pray for the therapist.


**Disclaimer: I own Naruto. Just kidding, I don't. But I wish I do -,-.**

**Note: There's no note.**

**Deidara's Speech Therapy**

**** Deidara had gone through many fights in his so-far-kinda-sorta-short life, been in countless near-death experiences, and had too many life-threatening injuries than he could count.

However, none of that compared to what he was going through right now.

It was torture, having to remain immobile for what seemed like hours and hours, waiting, dreading, uncertainly clouding his mind as he feared for his mist-shrouded future. Deidara sat uncomfortably still in a rickety wooden chair, unconciously tapping its uneven legs on the cold, linoleum floor; a sharp, unsettling noise echoing around the small, poorly-lit room after each wobble. He glanced forebodingly at the four thick, concrete walls surrounding him, each with paint decorating the surface in the shape of flowers and birds, all smiling oh so childlishly and innocently, as if mocking him.

'Deidara?' A cool, female voice inquired.

Deidara slowly arose from his seat, wincing as his knees cracked under his weight. He could literally hear the sinister music playing softly in the background (because the authouress wrote so, so it must be in thy story) as he marched towards his doom.

Coming up to a door, Deidara gupled back his fears and tentatively knocked on the hard, wood surface. A bronze nameplate glinted off the lights darkly as his hand moved: Dr. Skyjogger: Speech Therapist.

'Come in!' a jolly voice called back, a few seconds after the knock. 'The door's open!'

However, for Deidara, it didn't really matter if or if not the door was locked. He was a ninja, for heaven's sake, and when did ninja use _doors_? That was _so _last season!

So, Deidara entered the flashy-shinobi way: He donkey-kicked down the door using his left foot, using the right to demolish a large chunk of the wall for good measure.

Deciding that breaking down the door (and most of the wall) wasn't good enough for such a high-ranking missing-nin such as himself, he performed a quick smoke jutsu set off a few strobe lights (from kami knows where) before he stepped foot inside the office.

'Dear God...' a tall, green-haired (because all manga characters have crazyass hair colours) man wearing horn-rimmed glasses gaped, his coffee cup falling out of his hand and breaking on the hardwood floor.

Deidara sighed. 'I know, right? I should've put in some explosions too, now I'll probably get ranked as most-lame enterance in next month's Ninja Magazine, yeah!'

The speech therapist gulped. Great, another ninja. As if he didn't need to get his office repaired enough due to those crazy idiots who were all competing in this 'Awesomest Entrance of the Month' contest thing. 'Uhm, okay, ma'am,' he started. 'If you'll ju-'

'MA'AM? DID YOU JUST CALL ME MA'AM, YEAH?' Deidara raged.

The green-haired speech therapist took a quick glance at his patient's profile sheet on his desk before clearing his throat nervously and continuing. 'Er, I mean Sir... slip of the tongue... hehe...pleasedontkillme!' He begged, noticing the slightly maniacal look in Deidara's eyes.

'_Remember, Deidara,_' The scolding voice of leader echoed in his mind. '_If you kill your therapist, then I'll revoke your dessert priviledge for TWO WEEKS' _Relaxing his muscles, Deidara -somewhat regretfully- let go of his twenty-six kunai, forty-nine poisoned shuriken, and stopped making explosive clay in his hands.

'Er, ok, hm'm,' Deidara mumbled, mentally slapping himself a few times to rid his head of the... uh, _violent_ thoughts of killing the unfortunate therapist. 'My name's Deidara, yeah. What's your name, hm'm?'

The green-haired man blinked a few times, wondering what provoked the sudden mood change in the blond-haired kunoi-er, shinobi who was currently standing ankle-deep in the rubble of his... door, wall, and a bit of desk. 'Well,' he gathered back his wits and assumed the Superior Therapist Pose. 'My name is Peter, and I'll be your speech therapist for the next eight weeks.' He would've shook hands with his new patient afterwards, but Peter was currently a bit scared of the mouths on Deidara's hands, especially the fact that their (unnaturally long) tongues were sticking out of them and waving around rather disturbingly.

'Nice to meet'cha, yeah!' Deidara replied, shaking Peter's hand vigourously, unaware that Peter was mentally puking himself.

Peter made a half-choking/half-meowing sound in the back of his throat. 'Ok, let's start with basics: What caused your speech impediment? Was it genetic disorder, which adversly affected your speech, or was it caused by a attention deficit hyperactivity disorder? Or perhaps it was a childhood apraxia, autism, or possibly extensive or intensive brain damage caused by a possible accident or childhood trauma? Though it's not outwardly visible, could the cause be from a craniofacial anomality or a disability, such as hearing?'

Deidara blinked in response, not exactly sure how to answer (Damn, he was stupider than he thought). 'It's just a habit, I guess, yeah?'

Peter paused and thought for a moment. 'How does your impediment affect your speech?'

Deidara coughed uncomfortably a few times, not sure how to explain his...'impediment', as Peter put so nicely. 'Well, I tend to say things like, 'hm'm', or 'un', or 'yeah' after I say a sentence, yeah.'

Peter professionally scribbled down a few things as professionally as he could in his professional half-demolished desk in a professional-looking notepad. Unfortunately, despite how professionally he performed things, Peter was a sufferer of Acute Doctor's-handwriting-itis, so none of his notes were ledgible.

'So, Deidara. How long have you had this 'habit' of your's?' Peter inquired, peering curiously over his horn-rimmed glasses, which looked much more intimidating in the Authouress's mind than it sounded. Now as she looks back at it, she realizes it actually sounded kinda perverted. Ah well, continuing on with the story.

'Since I was born, I guess, hm'm.' Deidara replied, twirling a strand of his long blond hair between his fingers, because the Authouress wrote so.

'And, I assume, your 'habit' was not the aftereffects of a childroom trauma or an accident?' Peter said back, his fingers twitching spastically as he watched Deidara play with his hair. It did not look right, in Peter's opinion, to see a full grown man twirling and fiddling and poking and proding his hair here and there.

'No, yeah.' Twirl. Fiddle.

'No or yes?' Twitch. Twitch.

'No, yeah!' Poke. Twirl.

'Yes?' Twitch.

'No, yeah!' Fiddle. Prod.

'NO OR YES?' Vein throb.

'Like I said, No!, Yeah!' Fiddl-

'WILL YOU STOP THAT?!' Peter snapped, his hands flying out in exasperation.

'Stop what, yeah?' Deidara asked, now have worked a giant knot into his hair.

'STOP TWITCHING AND FIDDLING AND POKING AND PRODING AND SAYING YEAH ALL THE TIME!'

'You want me to stop saying yeah, yeah? Is-This-Better-?' Deidara replied back, completely oblivious to the fact that he was giving his therapist a minor seizure from his unavoiable ability to annoy with knowing it.

'Yes!' Peter sighed with relief.

A temporary gust of evil suddenly flitted its way into Deidara's mind. 'YOU MEAN YEAH, YEAH?!' He yelled back as loud as he could muster into Peter's face, sending his hair flying everywhere with his hands and hitting Peter in the face repetively (His poor face).

'YOU KNOW WHAT, I QUIT!' Peter then rageflipped his table, sending his possesions flying this way and that, and prompty ragestomped out of the building.

'...Was it something I said?' Deidara wondered aloud innocently, before smashing his way out the window, forgetting that he was on the seventh floor.

'OH SHIT.'

Good thing that he's a ninja.


End file.
